Doctor`s pride

Let me have the pleasure to introduce you to the noblest of the noble, the doctors. Call them angels or saviors; they are the most prestigious one. Their field of medicine is a profession that has got a brilliant scope both in this world and hereafter.  

 Hilariously it’s only a doctor who can do social service and that too without spending a single cent from his pocket, Ha-ha! Plus more, it`s only him who never gets retired from his job.

 

Well I am sure this may seem hard to digest for many of my readers but I am sorry the angels dressed in the white don’t deserve the place they are really offered. They are rather earthly like others and hence bound to make mistakes. That’s why I put up a simple question: Do they really deserve accolades or what? Now follows the reasons for their downsides:

Doctors are very rightly taught all the physiology and chemistry stuff. These longheaded creatures are good learners of medicine. Alas! There is a big miss! The subject of human-conduct is missing somewhere in the syllabus of their moral science.  And this is a fact that`s very visible from their arrogant attitude minus some handful exceptions.

Right from their gestures to their gate, everything is packed with pride. Their lady associates are more inclined towards the daily soaps presenting trendy pompous doctor lifestyles. Their personalities always seem to be hanging on the cloud 9. They are always in a rush and their hasty speech confuses you; bang! What to have in the morning and what else in the evening? This remains an enigma! Well, better take my advice and never think of questioning them because they will never tolerate snooping, as they call it. It will only earn you their wrath.

Now talking about the patients’ role in doctor`s life. Well a patient is supposed to be the main facet in the life-cycle of a doctor. In fact it`s him only by means of which a doc earns his living. But the irony is that for a doctor, the patient is not more than a subject (A lesson from Muna- Bahi MBBS). In private practicing, the patient is only a money-making machine and in government part, the subject is a headache. Moreover in the former case, the docs try their level best to keep their patients buzzing around their clinics and in the latter they don`t like to see their faces for a second time. A patient is made to wait for hours for his turn and once the patient is pinged to go in, it takes him not even a minute to get his poor self examined properly and as such the patient is send back in a blink just with a pack of pills and dissatisfaction. It really pains to see us greasing their palms with our pricey darling bucks just for burning our own body with their acids and alcohols. Period! Now another minus!

Their handwritten prescription is so illegible for a common man that only a doctor or a patron chemist can decipher their coding. Possibilities are also there that it may get misinterpreted and the result will be a chaos. Doesn’t this astonish to see the writing of the big intellectuals so repulsive? Is this the reason for their egoism? I ask the brainy heads.  

Having said that let’s take a look over the exaggerated importance given to the docs in our society. The fact is fairly crystal clear that the medicine has ruled the roost in Kashmir for decades and will be positively doing so in the coming times as well. There is a monopoly of this mbbs thing among all the academics in Kashmir. Our society is badly infected with this obsession towards the doctor’s profession. I call it Obsessive Compulsive Doctor-philia. After class 10^th everyone wants to become a doctor. It’s the number one preference. All the time, parents keep compelling their wards “Mera beta doctor baneyga” without caring about their choice. All the medical students crave to get into a medical college. They are ill-advised that in medical field they have only two options: either a doctor else nothing. Why? I ask you sirs.

Why is the medicine profession considered as the splendid of all? Well the answer is obvious. There is something heavenly about this field that makes people insanely to go after it. It’s a doctor getting a fine match at the right time and it`s him again earning the most preference and kindness in all the daily chores.

Lastly I wind-up this piece with a plea to my dear doctors:

Respected docs, I am not here to poke you for any of your fault. No sir not at all. Everything has got its positives and negatives. In fact I beyond doubt realize the fact that I stand nowhere in criticizing your wisdom. I just want to lay out the opinion of a common man who expects loads of support from his doctor which I am sorry I failed to find in your personality. It`s an appeal from a common man: “Please hear me sir; I beseech for your care, attention and your affection. You don’t realize the fact that you are a God-send angel for me, a cure to my ailments and an aid to my poor fellows. I am not asking you for any Munna Bhai`s “Jado ki jappi”. But I only expect a simple kind word and a healing touch. Believe me Doctor your single polite remark is far effective than thousands of your drugs.”

Lastly I request to be excused for any criticism I made to the noblest professionalism of medicine.

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The Eid That Was…

 Eid-ul-Azha, one of the God-blessed days of sacrifices for Moslems has always been my red-letter day. But this Eid was something different. I woke up quite earlier to crack my desperation for a joyous day ahead.

“This is the day of Joy.
This is the day of Felicitations.
This is the day of forgiveness.
This is the day of Eid”, heralded my facebook status soon after the rooster’s crowing at the break of dawn.

After munching some overpriced bakery and confectionary items, I dressed up for the Eid prayers to attest my presence in the colossal congressional. The scene was no different from the previous Eids in Kashmir. But some events marked this Eid as something new, trendy and changing.

There were countless people thronging the ground turned Eid Gah. But no xyz leader was visible at the sermon seat and no rabble-rousing speech heard. It seemed like Kashmir Dispute was no more disputed as it always had been on every Eid for the xyz leaders. Also “imported beggars” with newly devised strategies multiplied along the length and breadth.        

The bazaars were all packed with kids wearing brand new apparels imitating their pet heroes or heroines whatsoever. Young girls carrying shiny purses looked hilarious with their bodies flooded with bangles, earrings and other flashy trinkets. The boys on the other hand presented their naive bully nature with an Ak47 in hand while pockets filled with other ammunition. Ha-ha...needless to mention the plaything.

Well Eid-ul-Adha is mainly pivoted around the importance of sacrifice but times have fatally changed and hence did the cult of sacrifices. Now people outsource the job considering it tedious or unfeasible. New professionals are cropping up who are just a phone call away and do everything for you, right from slaughtering to distribution. No wonder in this tech-savvy world.

Times are changing and we can’t expect people stagnant with one culture. Eidi, the monetary gift given to the children on Eid has become more like a rigid formality. I don’t know how and when Eidi turned monetary but it has been there even before I was born. I am sure the concept had been started with a prosperous intention but now it has become more like a give and take system… You scratch my back and I will scratch yours. This is not any exchange of gifts and joys but a part of a plagued society that only teaches us how the goddamn money flows.

As I finished my Eid prayers, I visited my aunt in the old Srinagar city. Visiting downtown is always a delight for an art-loving guy like me. The intricate nostalgic streets and old archaic muddy houses always won my heart. But this time I was totally dumbfounded on watching something I never watched before. A gang of some young boys were splaying a newfangled kashmiri game that imitated stone pelting. The lads, who were merely 10, divided the teams into two squads shooting stones at one another.  Kids have adapted things that were nowhere in the list during my childhood.  I vividly remember the names like Aab-e-Bandook, Taas-e-Bandook and Bagwaan Taas that ruled the roost. But now the young lads are admiring deadly ways of rejoicing the Eid.

As I started moving on I was further amazed to find more young kids pelting stones on CRPF bunkers in real only for the sake of Eid fun. HO! What if they retaliated with a gunshot or even more deadly PSA shot?   

Moreover I found people have distanced themselves so much that they prefer to greet one another on facebook even if the other person is a next door neighbor. I feel pity for the tech-savvy Kashmiris, myself included.  

Now if I talk of the extravagant bakery and other palatable stuff, then I am sorry this article won’t fit in the limited space. Writing this is only a trivial attempt of my meager perceptive. At the end, “You cannot change the system”, goes the common statement. But I am happy because for me a great day signed off with great returns and yes, puzzlement. And lastly as I returned back with a good collection of bounty, a jam-packed tummy and some disappointment, I laid on my bed, puzzled!!!

India-Pak Cricket: Irrationally fever pitched

ABDUL WAJID

  

Imran Khan, one of the apex figures in Pakistan cricket, once asked about Indian-Pak cricket match said, “Cricket is a pressure game, and when it comes to India-Pakistan cricket match the pressure is doubled”. Furthermore Wikipedia underscores the India-Pakistan cricket rivalry as one of the most intense sport rivalries in the world. The giant encyclopaedia says that an India-Pakistan cricket match attracts up to three hundred million television viewers.

Well, the criticality of the match between India and Pakistan is undoubtedly always a high up, giving sleepless nights to most of us. For me, any cricket match played between the two arch-rivals, is more than just a game. Any India-Pak cricket match always makes me scratch my past and recollect a haunting experience of watching the India-Pak world-cup match in 2011 among some overly patriotic hardcore Indian fans outside valley.

I still remember the fateful day when my destiny made me to watch the doomed match at one of my Indian friend`s place which was my least preference; reason following on.

It was a 10x12 shabby room immersed in darkness with all lights shut-off. A small TV set held at one of its dirty corners was the only source of scintillation lighting-up the faces present in the room. As I entered the petite room, I was completely spell-bound with my mouth wide open, watching around 20 guys sitting over one another all set to watch the “fanatically essential match”. Fortunately I got myself adjusted somewhere around the doorway where I could have some glimpse of the telly.

As I rested myself in the alien room, everyone gazed at me. I could vividly feel the anger towards me since it was a one-to-many conflict of preference(Read as favoritism).  I was sitting like a lame-duck and I felt like everyone was filled with warlordism against me. But I stayed firm because I had the complete sense of being an expat and that too a Kashmiri studying outside Kashmir.

It was a match between the worst foes of the history and I could clearly smell the hatred towards me. I was not favoring the nation which they call their mother nor their players whom they considered Gods. So everyone`s eye was on me. 

Well I am not at all a pro-pakistani guy. But I don’t know the exact reason for the extreme romanticism towards Pakistan when it comes to cricket, specially against India. And the reason cannot be religion. In that case I would have admired Bangladesh as well, which I don't. 

If I dig into the reasons for not supporting the Inidan cricket team, I would say I was just born like that. I have seen bad things since my childhood that cannot be changed. Its in my psyche.  Being more sentimental towards the Kashmir cause, I didn’t wish India to win for its grave human-right abuses in Kashmir. That's it. Period. One pioneer writer from the valley acknowledges the fact by saying that it`s the hatred towards the brutal Indian policies on Kashmir that is moving the people of Kashmir towards Pakistan(emotionally).

I knew it was not a safe bet to support Pakistan yet my heart was beating for Afridi while my sanity favoring otherwise.  But all this turned my friends into foes. Earning their wrath for free I left the place as the match progressed in the favour of the Indians. I couldn`t tot up my broken courage to face the defeat.  So, prior to the end of the match, I left the place and walked down the street all alone back to my living room that was a couple of miles away. 

Streets were deserted and I felt that no one was accompanying me except my grief. I was about to reach my room that a huge bam of crackers blasted and with that disheartened me understood that India had finally won.

Following the grand triumph, people went crazy all at once. All the night, Indian-fans boozed in liquor kept beating the drums and thrashing the streets; should I say irrationally fever pitched. Crackers filled the air to the fullest and the celebrations went on. And my phone kept pinging with abuses from my mates. As this was not enough, the Indian news channels, as expected, got infested with the virus of exaggerating the win like anything.

 

Huh!! that was a past; a bitter one. But relax, cricket is just a game and hence we should be the good takers of it as a sport. Nothing more and nothing personal...PEACE.

The Missing Light

ABDUL WAJID PARRAY

Today it was the International Day for the Disappeared People, an event that made realize what I never realized before...a four letter word called pain. Pain of a mother who lost her only son to anonymous jackboots, pain of a father who died hoping to see his son again, pain of a devoted wife who vanished her sight waiting for her other half, pain of a child who knows not how a father looks and lastly the pain that I can never pen-down, no matter how good I write. But a trivial attempt of my poor perspective dedicated to all the unfortunate partakers in the event goes like this: 

Kashmir, the living earthly paradise, needs no introduction as such. The Vale is very well distinguished for its incredible landscape and for its awful tribulations; unfortunately. Praising Kashmir here for its stupendous beauty is not the argument but the subject matter is to present an ugliest part behind the beautiful veil of paradise.

Before digging in, we need to understand the primary aspirations of Kashmiris. To have a prosperous state, that is a peace center for the entire world, is the primary aspiration of every commune and Kashmir is no exception. The demand for good roads, jobs, banks, schools, health centers is a familiar claim but above all is the right to self determination. But in the dictionary of Kashmir there is no word like freedom needless to talk about the rest.

Now “people” talk of reconciliations to facilitate a constructive dialogue towards a lasting resolution. But I feel sorry rather pity for such less learned people for their ignorance of facts. There is no good in brushing the violations under the carpet by wiping a victim’s tears with political butter known as ‘compensation’. Truth is that no fortune in this world can bring back the lost son to an ailing mother.

To a noble soul it is not an easy task to pen-down the sufferings of a nation. It needs a mountainous courage to summarize the bitter facts. The Kashmir conflict has dented the whole valley both physically and economically. We cannot acknowledge the quantum of the sufferings of the Kashmiris in the real sense. It is an admitted fact that the whole valley is under the fencing of stress, agony and pogrom. I can go on writing like this for ages with my blood fused with pain and agony but my write-up cannot describe or ascribe the real aches and pains of my brethren. 

Before wrapping up, I would like to share some precious words for all the occupied regions in the world (here in context of Kashmir). These are actually the last words of Rachel Corrie, one of the famous American Journalists, which she emailed to her mother prior her death by Israel's Bulldozer:

"No amount of reading, no conferences, no documentary viewing and no word of mouth could present the reality and the situation here in Palestine. You just cannot imagine it unless you see it yourself."

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My childhood Eid

"And I returned back with a good collection of bounty, a jam-packed tummy and some disappointment."

 

 ABDUL WAJID PARRAY

 

Eid-ul-Fitr, the heyday of happiness and prosperity signed off all in peace.  All the believers who refrained from “things” and all the Deheldes who consumed those “things”, both rejoiced the Eid equally. Shunning the differences and disputes while suspending the rest, people reaped the benediction of Eid. Fortunately I too joined the same, this time at home in Kashmir...thank God.

The bazaars and parks were all packed with kids in their best clothes. Everything minus some indecent pompous lads, presented a beautiful panorama. Little girls wearing pinkish frocks attracted my eyes. The baby damsels carrying shiny purses looked hilarious with their bodies flooded with bangles, earrings and other flashy trinkets. The boys on the other hand presented their naive bully nature with an Ak47 in hand while pockets filled with other ammunition. Ha-ha...needless to mention the plaything.

The D-day of Eid has always been the chief stimulator of adrenaline rush in me and my peers. I vividly remember the level of excitement that I, my twin sib and other two cousin brothers used to carry about the feverous day of Eid. We used to keep a bookmark on the much common J&K Bank calendar, marking it all over with our code words only to gauge the countdown to the upcoming Eid. I still remember preparing long list of items to be bought on Eid. A doodling of the crescent and a star served the purpose of the letter-head while the content was filled with childish handwriting that was hardly legible. The list was tailored on each passing day with some items removed while few more added as per our expected “Eidi” budget. The contents, as I recollect, included mainly the fire crackers with hilarious names like Bagwaan Taas and Zebra Bangool.  Our squad of four used a witty strategy of buying the crackers from the wholesale market of Maharaja Bazaar in almost half the market price. Indeed very witty at the age of 10, I must say.

Toy guns listed the top. I liked Aab-e-Bandook, the water spattering gun while my brothers admired the Taas-e-Bandook, the cracking toy pistols. The list also carried the eatables to rejoice and the places to be visited on Eid. Eatables mainly included the junk food while places comprised of well-known names like Mughal Gardens and Nehru Park. The trivial amusement park at Khankah ruled the roost. We were insanely fond of its merry-go-rounds that had seats with thrilling shapes in the form of jeeps, horses and airplanes.   

Everything was full of fun, amusement, joy, happiness and yes most importantly satisfaction. Period! What Now? The fervor has lost all its glory. I no more delight the same, except for some nice food. I reason probably because now I have grown up. But that’s fine I don’t carry the love for toy guns, crackers and joy rides anymore. I simply miss the passion with which I used to welcome Eid. I miss the zeal of my childhood Eid, those innocent smiles and the festive visits to friends and relatives….I miss them all.  It feels like a vacuum has snatched all those past heydays creating a big void.

Times have fatally changed and so did we. Now people visit one another only to uphold the social implications rather than regarding one another in the real sense. Eidi, the God-blessed monetary gift given to the children on Eid has become more like a rigid formality. I don’t know how and when Eidi turned monetary but it has been there even before I was born. It has become more like a give and take system… You scratch my back and I will scratch yours. If any “xyz” gives my son a hundred rupee note, then I have to return back not less than that, no matter how poor my financial condition is. Kindly ponder over this!! This is not any exchange of gifts and joys but a part of a plagued society that only teaches us how the goddamn money flows.

Moreover people have distanced themselves so much that they prefer to greet one another on facebook even if the other person is a next door neighbor. I feel pity for the tech-savvy Kashmiris, myself included.  

Now if I talk of the extravagant bakery and other palatable stuff, then I am sorry this article won’t fit in the limited space. Writing this is only a trivial attempt of my meager perceptive. At the end, “You cannot change the system”, goes the common statement. But I am happy because for me a great day signed off with great returns and yes, puzzlement. And lastly as I returned back with a good collection of bounty, a jam-packed tummy and some disappointment, I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, puzzled!!!  
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